


Out Like a Light

by prick_and_murrty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Eventual Consent, M/M, Minor Injuries, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sex, Somnophilia, Underage Rape/Non-con, at the very end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prick_and_murrty/pseuds/prick_and_murrty
Summary: Request on Tumblr:“fic request : somnophilia noncon - Morty can’t wake up so Rick rapes his tight ass”Rick’s eyes trail over Morty and he purses his lips, shifting so he’s in a more comfortable position on the floor. The dust and colorful ash against his cheeks is oddly endearing, and Rick feels his fingers itch with the need to reach out and touch.





	Out Like a Light

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a fic request @prick-and-murrty.tumblr.com

The size of the explosion isn’t anything to actually be worried about. In all honesty, compared to _other_ explosions Rick’d seen this one was significantly unimpressive. (It _is_ fairly loud, though, so there’s that.) Yet the noise Morty makes as it goes off has Rick whipping around so fast he gets dizzy. There’s an incredible amount of bluish-purple smoke, and it smells kind of like beer, and it’s got Rick coughing and glaring - but it doesn’t stop him from running head first into it, panic and adrenaline just starting to bloom in his chest.   
  
It takes a minute, after his eyes stop stinging, but he spots Morty’s yellow shirt through the smoke and he drops to his knees beside him. Morty’s on his stomach, and he’s not moving, but there’s no giant puddle of blood to indicate he’s dead so Rick doesn’t try to be gentle as he flips him over with ease. There’s some soot and a few scrapes on his face, weird technicolor ash smudged against his cheek. He’s otherwise unruffled and Rick sighs heavily. 

“Jesus, kid, gave me a heart attack there,” Rick scoffs, trying to sound more angry than distressed. It doesn’t matter though because Morty doesn’t move, not so much as a twitch, and Rick’s eyes narrow. “Morty?”

Again, no response. Rick reaches forwards and presses his fingers against Morty’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Yeah, he’s alive. But he’s not moving - waking up. The explosion wasn’t anywhere near big or strong enough to have hurt Morty enough to put him into something like a coma, and he’s pretty sure Morty didn’t hit his head _that_ hard on the ground when he fell.

He’d probably fainted from fright - Rick wouldn’t put it past him. Morty had a pretty easily startled heart. Rick sighed, rolling his eyes overdramatically even though no one was there to see it.

“Yeah, okay, Morty - j-just pass out from a minor explosion. How am I supposed to finish my experiment _now,_ ” He glances back at what he’d been working on with a sort of bored expression. He could, technically, go back and keep working.

But it seemed uninteresting, now. After all, Morty was about ninety percent of his inspiration on bad days. It just didn’t feel the same doing it by himself, mostly sober - sure if he was more than just tipsy, then he’d keep working non-stop. He’s got the attention span of a goldfish on crack. Rick’s eyes trail over Morty and he purses his lips, shifting so he’s in a more comfortable position on the floor. The dust and colorful ash against his cheeks is oddly endearing, and Rick feels his fingers itch with the need to reach out and touch.

He keeps himself from doing it for about point two seconds, because when had he _ever_ been a man of patience? Rick lets the tips of his fingers just barely graze over the soft curve of the other’s cheek, admiring the contrast in color between his and Morty’s skin. He presses his fingers down, feeling his face like it’s an amazing new device he’s just _dying_ to figure out. And he supposes, in a sense, Morty kind of is.

At least so far as how Morty holds his attention at any given point. Without really thinking about it Rick scoots up, curling his hand around Morty’s face, cupping his cheek. Gently. He’d never be this gentle with someone in a different situation - but the way Morty doesn’t even so much as stur, the soft in and out of his breathing, has Rick feeling like he’s got to protect Morty. That, and it’s got his pants tightening in the front.

Not really the first time, but now that he’s here Rick feels compelled to actually do something about it. Can’t be rejected if they can’t talk. Rick grips the other side of Morty’s face, pulling him upwards and arching the boy’s limp body up so he can steal a kiss from him. It only go so far as a tender kiss - Rick’s never been one for kissing unless it’s two sided, then it’s just no fun. Morty smells nice, too, like soap and that stupid flower scented candle that he’s got in his bedroom.

There’s an underlying tang of beer, which Rick knows is coming from the smoke around him, but can’t help but feel almost excited at the prospect of Morty being shitfaced. He can almost imagine what it’d be like, almost exactly like this, except instead of passed out Morty’s just so drunk he’s entirely compliant and goes along with whatever Rick wants.

_That_ sends a shiver down his spine, and he’s shoving his hands under Morty’s shirt before he can stop himself. He want’s to leave at least _some_ mark that he’s been here, even if Morty won’t even know what or who it’s from. Rick can always lie and say it was from the explosion. He’s sure Morty’s naive enough to believe it, too. His hands go to Morty’s nipples, and he pinches them as he brings his face down and pulls his shirt up most of the way with his teeth - no need to stop what he’s doing, he can multitask like a pro.

He gets to work lavishing Morty’s chest, enraptured by the softness of his skin. Morty’s breathing rate increases, but otherwise doesn’t react. Rick smirks, dragging his fingers over Morty’s rib cage, feeling the individual bones underneath his fingertips. He thinks, absently, about how it’d be so _easy_ to break them. He’s had practice, he knows how to do it, and the entire thought process really emphasizes how vulnerable Morty is right now.

Rick could do anything to him and Morty could stop him. Speaking of - Rick’s eyes hone in on Morty’s crotch, narrowing as he spots the noticeable tent in Morty’s pants to match his own. He doesn’t even hesitate, no question on his mind as he pulls back and undoes his and Morty’s pants. Rick grips him by the hips, pulling him up so he’s more or less sitting in his lap, their dicks rubbing together wonderfully. Rick hisses through his teeth as he bucks, glancing to Morty’s face for a reaction.

There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, and his brows are crumpled together, but he’s not waking up. Rick almost _wants_ him to. Taste the sweet satisfaction of seeing Morty’s face at what he’s doing - but then that’d end this and Rick isn’t really too keen on stopping right now. He takes them both in hand for a moment, jerking them off as his lust filled eyes roam over Morty’s body, taking in the sight of him prone on the floor.

He’s got a rising urge to bite Morty but that’d surely wake him up, so he resists. What Rick _doesn’t_ resist is the urge to bury himself in Morty, and he pulls away just enough to tear Morty’s pants and underwear off. He gets one shoe off, but the other proves to be too much for him and he decides that _fuck it_ , that’s too much trouble. He considers for a moment how he wants to do this, and in the end he drags Morty back into his lap.

He pulls his cheeks apart, licking his lips as he tilts his head to get a better look. Morty is so soft _everywhere_ and it makes Rick so hard it hurts. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a bottle of lube he keeps with him everywhere, uncapping it and coating three fingers with it. He’s got to prepare him or else Morty will most definitely wake up. That doesn’t mean Rick takes his time, shoving two into Morty without so much as a preparative breath.

His eyes are trained to Morty’s face, watching for any sign that he’s waking up, but once again he gets nothing. He finger fucks Morty with earnest, _trying_ to get some kind of reaction out of him, and grins when, by the third finger, Morty makes a quiet moan. _God,_ that’s hot. He pulls his fingers out, giving himself a quick rub to coat himself in lube, before he lines up and pushes in _oh so_ slowly.

Morty makes another noise, squirming, his fist clenching against the concrete floor and Rick is practically vibrating with adrenaline and arousal. By the time he’s seated full in Morty he recognizes that he’s not going to last long, but that’s okay. It doesn’t need to last long - just being able to do this is more than enough. That doesn’t stop him from testing the ropes though, rocking hard into the first thrust.

Rick moans when he sees Morty literally _slide_ across the floor with the force of his thrust. He sets a steady, brutal pace, watching Morty intently. It’s probably one of the hottest experiences he’s had in awhile, and he’s biting his lip to keep himself from coming right then. Morty is warm and soft, and the slick slide of his thrusts is amazing - and then there’s the look on Morty’s face, of pure ecstasy yet slack with sleep, the way his face is flushed and how he sounds as he moans.

Rick closes his eyes, gripping Morty’s legs - also soft - as he feels heat in his gut pool almost to a tipping point. Then there’s a whine and an audible gasp, and Rick freezes, his eyes snapping open. Morty’s eyes are halfway lidded, his mouth dropped open in question even as drool trickles out of his mouth. 

“Rick?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough, and instantly Rick can feel the sudden shift in Morty’s muscles as he reflexively stiffens.

Rick thinks, then, that it’s over - he’s fucked. In retrospect he shouldn’t have taken it so far, really, but he couldn’t _help_ himself. It was just so _easy._ If only he’d - 

“Ahh,” Morty tries, pressing his own fist against his cheek like he’s trying to ground himself. Rick blinks, startled. “D-Don’t stop, Rick. P-Please.” 

Oh.

Well, if he was going to ask so _nicely._


End file.
